The Lighthouse by Robert Ballantyne

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Ruby became so exasperated at not being able even to watch the boat
going away, that he showered terrific blows on the mass of metal the
smith was turning rapidly on the anvil.

"Not so fast, lad; not so fast," cried Dove hurriedly.

Ruby's chafing spirit blew up just at that point; he hit the iron a
crack that knocked it as flat as a pancake, and then threw down the
hammer and deliberately gazed in the direction of the boat.

The sight that met his eyes appalled him. The boat had been lying in
the inlet named Port Stevenson. It had to pass out to the open sea
through _Wilson's Track_, and past a small outlying rock named
_Gray's Rock_--known more familiarly among the men as _Johnny Gray_.
The boat was nearing this point, when the sea, which had been rising
for some time, burst completely over the seaward ledges, and swept
the boat high against the rocks on the left. The men had scarcely got
her again into the track when another tremendous billow, such as
we have already described, swept over the rocks again and swamped the
boat, which, being heavily ballasted, sank at once to the bottom of
the pool.

It was this sight that met the horrified eyes of Ruby when he looked
up.

He vaulted over the bellows like an antelope, and, rushing over
_Smith's Ledge_ and _Trinity Ledge_, sprang across _Port Boyle_, and
dived head foremost into _Neill's Pool_ before any of the other men,
who made a general rush, could reach the spot.

A few powerful strokes brought Ruby to the place where the major and
the captain, neither of whom could swim, were struggling in the
water. He dived at once below these unfortunates, and almost in a
second, reappeared with Minnie in his arms.

A few seconds sufficed to bring him to _Smith's Ledge_, where several
of his comrades hauled him and his burden beyond the reach of the
next wave, and where, a moment or two later, the major and captain
with the crew of the boat were landed in safety.

To bear the light form of Minnie in his strong arms to the highest
and driest part of the rock was the work of a few moments to Ruby.
Brief though those moments were, however, they were precious to the
youth beyond all human powers of calculation, for Minnie recovered
partial consciousness, and fancying, doubtless, that she was still in
danger, flung her arms round his neck, and grasped him convulsively.
Reader, we tell you in confidence that if Ruby had at that moment
been laid on the rack and torn limb from limb, he would have cheered
out his life triumphantly. It was not only that he knew she loved
him--_that_ be knew before,--but he had saved the life of the girl he
loved, and a higher terrestrial happiness can scarcely be attained by
man.

Laying her down as gently as a mother would her firstborn, Ruby
placed a coat under her head, and bade his comrades stand back and
give her air. It was fortunate for him that one of the foremen, who
understood what to do, came up at this moment, and ordered him to
leave off chafing the girl's hand with his wet fists, and go get some
water boiled at the forge if he wanted to do her good.

Second words were not needed. The bellows were soon blowing, and the
fire glowed in a way that it had not done since the works at the Bell
Rock began. Before the water quite boiled some tea was put in, and,
with a degree of speed that would have roused the jealousy of any
living waiter, a cup of tea was presented to Minnie, who had
recovered almost at the moment Ruby left her.

She drank a little, and then closing her eyes, moved her lips
silently for a few seconds.

Captain Ogilvy, who had attended her with the utmost assiduity and
tenderness as soon as he had wrung the water out of his own garments,
here took an opportunity of hastily pouring something into the cup
out of a small flask. When Minnie looked up again and smiled, he
presented her with the cup. She thanked him, and drank a mouthful or
two before perceiving that it had been tampered with.

"There's something in it," she said hurriedly.

"So there is, my pet," said the captain, with a benignant smile, "a
little nectar, that will do you more good than all the tea. Come now,
don't shake your head, but down with it all, like a good child."

But Minnie was proof against persuasion, and refused to taste any
more.

"Who was it that saved me, uncle?" (She had got into the way of
calling the captain "uncle".)

"Ruby Brand did it, my darlin'," said the old man with a look of
pride. "Ah! you're better now; stay, don't attempt to rise."

"Yes, yes, uncle," she said, getting up and looking round, "it is
time that we should go now; we have a long way to go, you know.
Where is the boat?"

"The boat, my precious, is at the bottom of the sea."

As he said this, he pointed to the mast, half of which was seen
rising out of the pool where the boat had gone down.

"But you don't need to mind," continued the captain, "for they're
goin' to send us in one o' their own boats aboord the floatin'
lightship, where we'll get a change o' clothes an' some-thin' to
eat."

As he spoke, one of the sailors came forward and announced that the
boat was ready, so the captain and the major assisted Minnie into the
boat, which soon pushed off with part of the workmen from the rock.
It was to be sent back for the remainder of the crew, by which time
the tide would render it necessary that all should leave.

Ruby purposely kept away from the group while they were embarking,
and after they were gone proceeded to resume work.

"You took a smart dive that time, lad," observed Joe Dumsby as they
went along.

"Not more than anyone would do for a girl," said Ruby.

"An' such a purty wan, too," said O'Connor. "Ah! av she's not Irish,
she should ha' bin."

"Ye're a lucky chap to hae sic a chance," observed John Watt.

"Make up to her, lad," said Forsyth; "I think she couldn't refuse ye
after doin' her such service."

"Time enough to chaff after work is over," cried Ruby with a laugh,
as he turned up his sleeves, and, seizing the hammer, began, as his
friend Dove said, "to work himself dry".

In a few minutes, work was resumed, and for another hour all
continued busy as bees, cutting and pounding at the flinty surface of
the Bell Rock.

CHAPTER XIII

A SLEEPLESS BUT A PLEASANT NIGHT

The evening which followed the day that has just been described was
bright, calm, and beautiful, with the starry host unclouded and
distinctly visible to the profoundest depths of space.

As it was intended to send the _Smeaton_ to Arbroath next morning for
a cargo of stones from the building-yard, the wrecked party were
prevailed on to remain all night on board the _Pharos_, instead of
going ashore in one of the ship's boats, which could not well be
spared at the time.

This arrangement, we need hardly say, gave inexpressible pleasure to
Ruby, and was not altogether distasteful to Minnie, although she felt
anxious about Mrs. Brand, who would naturally be much alarmed at the
prolonged absence of herself and the captain. However, "there was no
help for it"; and it was wonderful the resignation which she
displayed in the circumstances.

It was not Ruby's duty to watch on deck that night, yet, strange to
say, Ruby kept watch the whole night long!

There was no occasion whatever for Minnie to go on deck after it was
dark, yet, strange to say, Minnie kept coming on deck at intervals
_nearly_ the whole night long! Sometimes to "look at the stars",
sometimes to "get a mouthful of fresh air", frequently to find out
what "that strange noise could be that had alarmed her", and at
last--especially towards the early hours of morning--for no reason
whatever, except that "she could not sleep below".

It was very natural that when Minnie paced the quarterdeck between
the stern and the mainmast, and Ruby paced the forepart of the deck
between the bows and the mainmast, the two should occasionally meet
at the mainmast. It was also very natural that when they did meet,
the girl who had been rescued should stop and address a few words of
gratitude to the man who had saved her. But it was by no means
natural--nay, it was altogether unnatural and unaccountable, that,
when it became dark, the said man and the said girl should get into a
close and confidential conversation, which lasted for hours, to the
amusement of Captain Ogilvy and the major, who quite understood it,
and to the amazement of many of the ship's crew, who couldn't
understand it at all.

At last Minnie bade Ruby a final good night and went below, and Ruby,
who could not persuade himself that it was final, continued to walk
the deck until his eyes began to shut and open involuntarily like
those of a sick owl. Then he also went below, and, before he fell
quite asleep (according to his own impression), was awakened by the
bell that called the men to land on the rock and commence work.

It was not only Ruby who found it difficult to rouse himself that
morning. The landing-bell was rung at four o'clock, as the tide
suited at that early hour, but the men were so fatigued that they
would gladly have slept some hours longer. This, however, the nature
of the service would not admit of. The building of the Bell Rock
Lighthouse was a peculiar service. It may be said to have resembled
duty in the trenches in military warfare. At times the work was light
enough, but for the most part it was severe and irregular, as the men
had to work in all kinds of weather, as long as possible, in the face
of unusual difficulties and dangers, and were liable to be called out
at all unseasonable hours. But they knew and expected this, and faced
the work like men.

After a growl or two, and a few heavy sighs, they all tumbled out of
their berths, and, in a very short time, were mustered on deck, where
a glass of rum and a biscuit were served to each, being the regular
allowance when they had to begin work before breakfast. Then they got
into the boats and rowed away.

Ruby's troubles were peculiar on this occasion. He could not bear the
thought of leaving the _Pharos_ without saying goodbye to Minnie; but
as Minnie knew nothing of such early rising, there was no reasonable
hope that she would be awake. Then he wished to put a few questions
to his uncle which he had forgotten the day before, but his uncle was
at that moment buried in profound repose, with his mouth wide open,
and a trombone solo proceeding from his nose, which sadly troubled
the unfortunates who lay near him.

As there was no way of escape from these difficulties, Ruby, like a
wise man, made up his mind to cast them aside, so, after swallowing
his allowance, he shouldered his big bellows, heaved a deep sigh, and
took his place in one of the boats alongside.

The lassitude which strong men feel when obliged to rise before they
have had enough of rest soon wears off. The two boats had not left
the _Pharos_ twenty yards astern, when Joe Dumsby cried, "Ho! boys,
let's have a race."

"Hooray!" shouted O'Connor, whose elastic spirits were always equal
to anything, "an' sure Ruby will sing us 'The girl we've left behind
us'. Och! an' there she is, av I'm not draymin'."

At that moment a little hand was waved from one of the ports of the
floating light. Ruby at once waved his in reply, but as the attention
of the men had been directed to the vessel by Ned's remark, each saw
the salutation, and, claiming it as a compliment to himself, uttered
a loud cheer, which terminated in a burst of laughter, caused by the
sight of Ruby's half-angry, half-ashamed expression of face.

As the other boat had shot ahead, however, at the first mention of
the word "race", the men forgot this incident in their anxiety to
overtake their comrades. In a few seconds both boats were going at
full speed, and they kept it up all the way to the rock.

While this was going on, the _Smeaton's_ boat was getting ready to
take the strangers on board the sloop, and just as the workmen landed
on the rock, the _Smeaton_ cast loose her sails, and proceeded to
Arbroath.

There were a few seals basking on the Bell Rock this morning when the
men landed. These at once made off, and were not again seen during
the day.

At first, seals were numerous on the rock. Frequently from fifty to
sixty of them were counted at one time, and they seemed for a good
while unwilling to forsake their old quarters, but when the forge was
set up they could stand it no longer. Some of the boldest ventured to
sun themselves there occasionally, but when the clatter of the anvil
and the wreaths of smoke became matters of daily occurrence, they
forsook the rock finally, and sought the peace and quiet which man
denied them there in other regions of the deep.

The building of the lighthouse was attended with difficulties at
every step. As a short notice of some of these, and an account of the
mode in which the great work was carried on, cannot fail to be
interesting to all who admire those engineering works which exhibit
prominently the triumph of mind over matter, we shall turn aside for
a brief space to consider this subject.

CHAPTER XIV

SOMEWHAT STATISTICAL

It has been already said that the Bell Rock rises only a few feet out
of the sea at low tide. The foundation of the tower, sunk into the
solid rock, was just three feet three inches above low water of the
lowest spring-tides, so that the lighthouse may be said with
propriety to be founded beneath the waves.

One great point that had to be determined at the commencement of the
operations was the best method of landing the stones of the building,
this being a delicate and difficult process, in consequence of the
weight of the stones and their brittle nature, especially in those
parts which were worked to a delicate edge or formed into angular
points. As the loss of a single stone, too, would stop the progress
of the work until another should be prepared at the workyard in
Arbroath and sent off to the rock, it may easily be imagined that
this matter of the landing was of the utmost importance, and that
much consultation was held in regard to it.

It would seem that engineers, as well as doctors, are apt to differ.
Some suggested that each particular stone should be floated to the
rock, with a cork buoy attached to it; while others proposed an
air-tank, instead of the cork buoy. Others, again, proposed to sail
over the rock at high water in a flat-bottomed vessel, and drop the
stones one after another when over the spot they were intended to
occupy. A few, still more eccentric and daring in their views,
suggested that a huge cofferdam or vessel should be built on shore,
and as much of the lighthouse built in this as would suffice to raise
the building above the level of the highest tides; that then it
should be floated off to its station on the rock, which should be
previously prepared for its reception; that the cofferdam should be
scuttled, and the ponderous mass of masonry, weighing perhaps 1000
tons, allowed to sink at once into its place!

All these plans, however, were rejected by Mr. Stevenson, who
resolved to carry the stones to the rock in boats constructed for the
purpose. These were named praam boats. The stones were therefore cut
in conformity with exactly measured moulds in the workyard at
Arbroath, and conveyed thence in the sloops already mentioned to the
rock, where the vessels were anchored at a distance sufficient to
enable them to clear it in case of drifting. The cargoes were then
unloaded at the moorings, and laid on the decks of the praam boats,
which conveyed them to the rock, where they were laid on small
trucks, run along the temporary rails, to their positions, and built
in at once.

Each stone of this building was treated with as much care and
solicitude as if it were a living creature. After being carefully cut
and curiously formed, and conveyed to the neighbourhood of the rock,
it was hoisted out of the hold and laid on the vessel's deck, when it
was handed over to the landing-master, whose duty it became to
transfer it, by means of a combination of ropes and blocks, to the
deck of the praam boat, and then deliver it at the rock.

As the sea was seldom calm during the building operations, and
frequently in a state of great agitation, lowering the stones on the
decks of the praam boats was a difficult matter.

In the act of working the apparatus, one man was placed at each of
the guy-tackles. This man assisted also at the purchase-tackles for
raising the stones; and one of the ablest and most active of the crew
was appointed to hold on the end of the fall-tackle, which often
required all his strength and his utmost agility in letting go, for
the purpose of lowering the stone at the instant the word "lower" was
given. In a rolling sea, much depended on the promptitude with which
this part of the operation was performed. For the purpose of securing
this, the man who held the tackle placed himself before the mast in a
sitting, more frequently in a lying posture, with his feet stretched
under the winch and abutting against the mast, as by this means he
was enabled to exert his greatest strength.

The signal being given in the hold that the tackle was hooked to the
stone and all ready, every man took his post, the stone was
carefully, we might almost say tenderly raised, and gradually got
into position over the praam boat; the right moment was intently
watched, and the word "lower" given sternly and sharply. The order
was obeyed with exact promptitude, and the stone rested on the deck
of the praam boat. Six blocks of granite having been thus placed on
the boat's deck, she was rowed to a buoy, and moored near the rock
until the proper time of the tide for taking her into one of the
landing creeks.

We are thus particular in describing the details of this part of the
work, in order that the reader may be enabled to form a correct
estimate of what may be termed the minor difficulties of the
undertaking.

The same care was bestowed upon the landing of every stone of the
building; and it is worthy of record, that notwithstanding the
difficulty of this process in such peculiar circumstances, not a
single stone was lost, or even seriously damaged, during the whole
course of the erection of the tower, which occupied four years in
building, or rather, we should say, four seasons, for no work was or
could be done during winter.

A description of the first entire course of the lower part of the
tower, which was built solid, will be sufficient to give an idea of
the general nature of the whole work.

This course or layer consisted of 123 blocks of stone, those in the
interior being sandstone, while the outer casing was of granite. Each
stone was fastened to its neighbour above, below, and around by means
of dovetails, joggles, oaken trenails, and mortar. Each course was
thus built from its centre to its circumference, and as all the
courses from the foundation to a height of thirty feet were built in
this way, the tower, up to that height, became a mass of solid stone,
as strong and immovable as the Bell Rock itself. Above this, or
thirty feet from the foundation, the entrance door was placed, and
the hollow part of the tower began.

Thus much, then, as to the tower itself, the upper part of which will
be found described in a future chapter. In regard to the subsidiary
works, the erection of the beacon house was in itself a work of
considerable difficulty, requiring no common effort of engineering
skill. The principal beams of this having been towed to the rock by
the _Smeaton_, all the stanchions and other material for setting them
up were landed, and the workmen set about erecting them as quickly as
possible, for if a single day of bad weather should occur before the
necessary fixtures could be made, the whole apparatus would be
infallibly swept away.

The operation being, perhaps, the most important of the season, and
one requiring to be done with the utmost expedition, all hands were,
on the day in which its erection was begun, gathered on the rock,
besides ten additional men engaged for the purpose, and as many of
the seamen from the Pharos and other vessels as could be spared. They
amounted altogether to fifty-two in number.

About half-past eight o'clock in the morning a derrick, or mast,
thirty feet high, was erected, and properly supported with guy-ropes
for suspending the block for raising the first principal beam of the
beacon, and a winch-machine was bolted down to the rock for working
the purchase-tackle. The necessary blocks and tackle were likewise
laid to hand and properly arranged. The men were severally allotted
in squads to different stations; some were to bring the principal
beams to hand, others were to work the tackles, while a third set had
the charge of the iron stanchions, bolts, and wedges, so that the
whole operation of raising the beams and fixing them to the rock
might go forward in such a manner that some provision might be made,
in any stage of the work, for securing what had been accomplished, in
case of an adverse change of weather.

The raising of the derrick was the signal for three hearty cheers,
for this was a new era in the operations. Even that single spar,
could it be preserved, would have been sufficient to have saved the
workmen on that day when the Smeaton broke adrift and left them in
such peril.

This was all, however, that could be accomplished that tide. Next
day, the great beams, each fifty feet long, and about sixteen inches
square, were towed to the rock about seven in the morning, and the
work immediately commenced, although they had gone there so much too
early in the tide that the men had to work a considerable time up to
their middle in water. Each beam was raised by the tackle affixed to
the derrick, until the end of it could be placed or "stepped" into
the hole which had been previously prepared for its reception; then
two of the great iron stanchions or supports were set into their
respective holes on each side of the beam, and a rope passed round
them to keep it from slipping, until it could be more permanently
fixed.

This having been accomplished, the first beam became the means of
raising the second, and when the first and second were fastened at
the top, they formed a pair of shears by which the rest were more
easily raised to their places. The heads of the beams were then
fitted together and secured with ropes in a temporary manner, until
the falling of the tide would permit the operations to be resumed.

Thus the work went on, each man labouring with all his might, until
this important erection was completed.

The raising of the first beams took place on a Sunday. Indeed, during
the progress of the works at the Bell Rock, the men were accustomed
to work regularly on Sundays when possible; but it is right to say
that it was not done in defiance of, or disregard to, God's command
to cease from labour on the Sabbath day, but because of the urgent
need of a lighthouse on a rock which, unlighted, would be certain to
wreck numerous vessels and destroy many lives in time to come, as it
had done in time past. Delay in this matter might cause death and
disaster, therefore it was deemed right to carry on the work on
Sundays. [Footnote]

[Footnote: It was always arranged, however, to have public worship on
Sundays when practicable. And this arrangement was held to during the
continuance of the work. Indeed, the manner in which Mr. Stevenson
writes in regard to the conclusion of the day's work at the beacon,
which we have described, shows clearly that he felt himself to be
acting in this matter in accordance with the spirit of our Saviour,
who wrought many of His works of mercy on the Sabbath day. Mr.
Stevenson writes thus:--

"All hands having returned to their respective ships, they got a
shift of dry clothes, and some refreshment. Being Sunday, they were
afterwards convened by signal on board of the lighthouse yacht, when
prayers were read, for every heart upon this occasion felt gladness,
and every mind was disposed to be thankful for the happy and
successful termination of the operations of this day."

It is right to add that the men, although requested, were not
constrained to work on Sundays. They were at liberty to decline if
they chose. A few conscientiously refused at first, but were
afterwards convinced of the necessity of working on all opportunities
that offered, and agreed to do so.]

An accident happened during the raising of the last large beam of the
beacon, which, although alarming, fortunately caused no damage.
Considering the nature of the work, it is amazing, and greatly to the
credit of all engaged, that so few accidents occurred during the
building of the lighthouse.

When they were in the act of hoisting the sixth and last log, and
just about to kant it into its place, the iron hook of the principal
purchase-block gave way, and the great beam, measuring fifty feet in
length, fell upon the rock with a terrible crash; but although there
were fifty-two men around the beacon at the time, not one was
touched, and the beam itself received no damage worth mentioning.

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